


All Things Break (The Question is How Much)

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Mind Games, Protective Keith (Voltron), Torture, Waterboarding, Whump, outside perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 15:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16495637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: “You made a mistake, Blade,” the Galra commander sneered. “You care about someone else.” The Blade could not stop the flash of horror that filled his face and she reveled in it. “He clearly means something to you. So I wonder, Blade, what will you do if it is he we punish for your failure to cooperate?” Her fangs glinted. “Let’s see if we can loosen that tongue of yours.”





	All Things Break (The Question is How Much)

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** Somewhere in season five
> 
>  **Warning notes:** Depictions of torture, waterboarding, graphic-ish
> 
>  **Additional notes:** For Tumblr follower kiriban event with prompt: If you don't mind would you considere Lance and Keith. With Lance as the victim being punished for Keiths actions

****“I will ask nicely one last time. Where is the Blade of Marmora base in the Xinsthes quadrant?”

“And I’ll say it again. Fuck you.”

Galra Commander Xeada let out a sigh, shaking her head at the captured Blade fastened securely to the chair in front of her. “So vulgar.”

The Blade growled lowly and she met the heated purple stare trying to burn through her. “You are a foolish Blade,” she told him.

He bared his teeth but did not answer the taunt.

“You see,” she continued, circling about the chair. She gave him points for remaining facing forward. “I have captured several equally foolish Blades now as you come one after the other to ‘investigate,’” she smirked, “the signal we have put out. Did your commander tell you that, hm? Did he tell you that all seven Blades that have come here in the last deca-phoeb have never returned?”

Her grin widened as she saw the small shoulders tense.

“Ah, so he didn’t. Well, I shall inform you of their fates as I have all the others who came before you.”

Her hand clamped down on that shoulder from behind and she lowered her head towards the strange-shaped ear. “They died.”

She went back to her circling. “They refused to divulge the information I sought and so they were killed. Slowly. Painfully _. Beautifully.”_

“I won’t tell you anything.”

She admired the fact there was not even a touch of a waver, a hint of fear in those stunning purple eyes as he caught her gaze when she circled back around.

“I believe you.”

Xeada chuckled then as his mouth parted ever so in surprise.

“I believe you,” she repeated. “That traitor Kolivan picks his sacrifices well. Despite the betrayal you must be feeling you still stand by your mission. Truly, it is admirable. However, you made a mistake, Blade. You care about someone else.”

He could not stop the flash of horror that filled his face and Xeada _reveled_ in it.

“Given your reaction when he was shot, well, he clearly means something to you. So I wonder, Blade, what will you do if it is he we punish for your failure to cooperate?” Her fangs glinted. “Let’s see if we can loosen that tongue of yours.”

She nodded her head to the side, the signal, and the covering on the wall was yanked away. It revealed a window into the sound-proofed room next door where the Blade’s companion, dressed as a Blade but their tests had already confirmed he was not Galran, was slumped in his own restraints on a chair. Red blood decorated his shoulder from where he had been shot and a thick blindfold was pulled tight about his eyes. Xeada always found that the removal of sight had a pleasing effect for the pain although it had still not been enough to break the previous Blades. They were very stubborn. But she was even more so and so now she had found a workaround, a solution to the stubbornness of Blades.

And it was a solution she was going to very, very much enjoy. The red blood was such a pleasing color. She could not wait to see more of it.

It had been this not-Blade’s injury that had allowed them to capture the actual Blade, who had doubled back for his companion when he collapsed. The Blade had been overwhelmed by their sheer numbers before he could escape although she did admire the effort even if it had cost her three soldiers.

It further showed her how important this other alien was to the Blade.

She would use it to the fullest extent and delight in every tortured scream from both of her new prisoners.

The Blade’s sharp intake was as delightful as she had imagined as he took in the scene.

“We will be able to hear and see everything from inside that room but he is not able to do the same,” she explained. “For every refusal you make I will hurt him as though he were you. I trust you understand.”

He said nothing, lips a thin line but that could not hide the despair creeping into his eyes.

Xeada reached up to her comm. “Begin.”

One of her lieutenants entered the room with the Blade’s companion, a bucket of water in hand.

He upended it on the unconscious figure.

He sputtered awake, a low moan torn from his throat and the Blade stiffened in his restraints, his fingers clenching at the armrest.

Xeada hid a smirk. They had yet to even start and already he was giving himself away.

This was going to be such fun.

The figure was turning his head this way and that, pulling uselessly at the cuffs that held his arms fast to the chair and his legs the same. The microphones picked up his ragged breaths quite nicely.

“Hello?” he called out after a few moments, her lieutenant standing silently as instructed next to him. “Is… is anyone there?”

“We will begin with his fingers,” she instructed her officer and said for the Blade’s benefit. “On my signal if you please.”

She turned to the Blade, whose eyes were large and drinking in the sight. “And so I ask again. Where is the Blade of Marmora base in the Xinsthes quadrant?”

The Blade gave a mute shake of his head.

She relayed the beep and her lieutenant moved forward, a small pair of pliers in hand.

The figure started in the chair as the tool was positioned on the top of his smallest finger on his right hand.

“Wait,” his voice was rising in pitch. “Who’s there? What’s happening? Where—?”

He broke off with a cry as the bone was snapped.

Xeada looked at the Blade. “The base?”

He remained silent, eyes fixed on the trembling figure inside.

The pliers were moved to the second finger.

The figure let out a ragged breath. “Please, wait, what’s—?”

The sound of the bone breaking that time was louder and his scream matched it, head tipping back on the chair.

“I seem to have misjudged you,” Xeada said conversationally as two more fingers followed the same fate and the Blade remained silent although she could hear that his own breaths had become harsher. “His pain must mean little to you.”

They moved to the thumb.

“Stop, please, _por favor,”_ the figure pleaded, trying unsuccessfully to shift his hand out of the pliers grip. Tears were visible dripping from beneath the blindfold. “What do you _want?_ Where’s—?”

He _shrieked_ that time and Xeada chuckled at the additional effort on her lieutenant's face as he worked to break the hardier bone. But it fell as all the others had before it.

“He was your gunman, was he not?” she asked the Blade. “I do wonder how he’ll ever wield such a weapon again with hands as mangled as I will make them. Or should I say you. His pain is your fault; you can stop this at any time.”

“You won’t,” came the low response, darkened with such _hate_ that Xeada felt a shiver go down her spine.

Delightful.

“I won’t…” she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“You won’t stop. You won’t let him go no matter what I tell you.”

“Foolish you may be but intelligent you still are,” she inclined her head. “No. He will remain here until I have gleaned every piece of information you possess that I desire. But then, I swear upon my honor as a Galra, I will release him then. Whether he’s a lump of flesh or not is up to you.”

They moved to the second hand.

“How about we try an easier question for you, hm?” she asked. “Spare him a moment of pain.” She fixed sharp eyes on the Blade. “What is your name?”

“Keith,” he blurted it out without even a hesitation.

She smirked.

“Keith,” she repeated. “And tell me Keith, what is his name?”

He swallowed thickly, throat bobbing.

Xeada had the small finger broken.

“Lance,” the Blade answered as the pliers moved to wrap about his companion’s second finger. “His name is Lance.”

Xeada smiled. “There now. Was that so difficult?”

She gave a count of nearly two minutes, letting both her captured Blade and his friend sit in the silence. The one called Lance had stopped talking, his own lips a thin line when he wasn’t gasping for air from the pain, as he no doubt came to some conclusion of his own about what was happening.

He was no ordinary hired gun.

“What organization does Lance belong with?” she inquired.

She heard the Blade’s breath uptick.

He remained silent.

Interesting.

Xeada gave the go ahead for the next finger although she was somewhat disappointed as it failed to garner a scream but rather a choked gasp.

He was learning.

Definitely no mere gunman.

She repeated the inquiry twice more with the same result.

“The Blade,” Keith said quickly as the pliers moved to wrap about the figure’s second thumb and they both heard the whimper the figure could not entirely silence as it tightened. “He’s with the Blade.”

“Wrong answer.”

Lance _screamed._

“He’s with the Blade,” Keith insisted. “He’s—”

“You are lying to me,” she cut him off, eyes narrowing. “I don’t like liars, Keith. I _despise_ them.”

“I’m not lying, I swear. He’s with the Blade, he—”

“Keith, Keith, Keith, _Keith,”_ she shook her head. “Your continued denials of the truth will only hurt him more. Like so.”

She pressed on her comm. “Lieutenant, administer a shock. You know where.”

The pliers were placed down and a shock prod was lifted. With a smirk that matched Xeada’s own it activated right over the gunshot wound on alien’s chest.

And oh did he scream.

Xeada let out a low laugh of delight as the figure’s head smashed backwards on the chair and his body arched up, only placing him more into the line of fire but that was the body’s natural reaction to such a torture.

Broken, ruined fingers were scrabbling against the chair as though trying to reach out, to find _something_ to ground him. Xeada gave the command to increase the power and the _wail_ that sounded was music to her ears.

So too was the Blade screaming at her to stop, almost inaudible over the sheer volume of his companion’s own shouts. He was straining at his own bindings, looking to be in almost as much pain as the other.

“His organization,” she instructed.

“Fuck you! Stop this! Stop this now! Lance!” his gaze broke from her own to the room. “Lance!”

“He cannot hear you,” she chuckled.

“Lance!”

The alien’s screams cut off with a startling silence.

He’d passed out.

Xeada frowned. Whatever species he was their bodies did not seem to be as resilient as a Galran’s. She would have to take that into consideration.

“Wake him,” she instructed and turned her attention back to Keith.

He glared at her.

She slapped him, his head wrenching all the way across the chair.

When he looked back the glare had not lessened in the slightest so she slapped him again. His cheek was red now and she stepped back, satisfied even as those purple eyes glimmered with hate.

“I will give you one last chance before I move to more extreme methods. What is this Lance’s organization?”

The Blade remained silent.

She supposed she personally preferred that to his lies.

“Very well. Lieutenant, let’s give him an extended dousing, hm?”

The subject had woken up from another bucket of water dumped over his head and although he was listing sideways in his restraints and clearly in pain as his wound bled heavily and dripped down the dark cloth, he said nothing.

Xeada would admit to being slightly impressed. His earlier confusion and vulnerability had been pushed down, hidden, which in turn  was allowing the Blade to weather through the torture better than she had anticipated.

However she knew that fear was still there.

It was time to bring it back out.

Her lieutenant picked up a thick towel and without ceremony draped it over the alien’s face.

His choked inhale made her smile.

His head was forced back, baring his vulnerable looking neck over the top of the chair edge, and her lieutenant activated the strap there to hold it in place.

He picked up another bucket.

The Blade let out a choking noise of his own.

The water fall began.

The alien jerked and trembled on the chair as the water was poured over the heavy towel, saturating it and cutting off his air supply as more and more poured down.

“Stop,” the Blade pleaded, voice cracking. “Please. Stop this.”

“Tell me his organization.”

He shook his head.

The water stream paused for a moment as her lieutenant picked up the next bucket.

The alien’s struggles were becoming weaker. Xeada frowned, hoping she wasn’t going to have to revive him again before she’d gotten even an answer.

The second bucket started and the figure twitched violently, head rolling as much as it could, trying to dislodge the cloth.

Over the sound of the water and his gasps Xeada could hear him crying, and not so much of the pain of the previous tortures but of _terror._

Raw, beautiful terror.

The Blade could hear it too and she saw him shake.

“Tell me his organization,” she repeated.

He whispered something, inaudible, head bowed.

“I didn’t catch that,” she smiled. “Louder, please.”

“Paladin,” came the breathless whisper. “He’s… he’s a Paladin of Voltron.”

Xeada’s eyes widened before a growing smirk took over her face even as she signaled for the torture to stop and the towel was removed.

“A Paladin of Voltron,” she murmured, looking with new interest at the choking and gasping figure as he tried to both expel water and breathe air from his distorted position.

Interesting indeed.

“Oh, Keith,” she dug a hand into his shoulder and he shuddered in her grasp. “We are all going to have _so_ much fun together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! Xeada means “Icy” in Galician. Hehe. Hello, me. I’m terrible, aren’t I? This story got even darker than I planned on it to. When I first saw the prompt I thought I’d do something similar to one of my favorite Castle episodes of Esposito and Ryan and the drowning/torture scene, where the two were joking back and forth, but I thought it’d be even more fun for Lance and Keith to not be able to communicate and draw comfort from one another whatsoever and this was born. Heheh. Plus outside perspective and I mean, I’m loving it?
> 
> If you loved it too please leave a comment. As a note though this is a finished fic and I’m not continuing it. You can decide yourself if our boys get rescued or if Lance does indeed become a lump of flesh by the end ;p 
> 
> (Find more of my whump bingo prompts too; most located in the fic **_[Battlefield](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625668/chapters/36281364)_** or keep up with me on **[tumblr, icypantherwrites](http://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com/)** )


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